


Home Is Where the Heart Is

by AgentLevel7 (TardisGirlLoveStory)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:41:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25277092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisGirlLoveStory/pseuds/AgentLevel7
Summary: Set during and after S7.06 "Adapt or Die."  Daisy and Daniel have had tragic pasts that hold them back from starting new relationships.  Can they overcome these problems?
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 17
Kudos: 122





	1. Pasts Catchining Up

Her head was swimming, and she could barely move. Every nerve in her body felt like it was on fire. It would be so easy to let go. 

There was a sound of a distant voice that she tried to focus on. Jiaying beckoned. _I told you humans would destroy you. Come with me._

“Jiaying. It happened…” 

The fog in her brain lifted enough to realize the voice was Sousa’s saying her name.

“It happened before,” Daisy labored to get out.

“Hey, stay with me.”

Her brain tried to focus on what else he was saying, but Jiaying was still there with outstretched arms. _I forgive you and your dad. I know you both had to do what you did._

Feeling a rush of relief from the forgiveness, Daisy gasped her mother’s name. Her mother’s hatred of humans after Daniel Whitehall had carved her mother up to steal her powers, drove her mother insane, pitting daughter against mother. And ultimately father against mother.

Jiaying’s scars were gone and she smiled, still holding out her hand. _We can finally be together_.

Trying to push herself up on her hands, Daisy panted, “I ca…” Her body just wasn’t cooperating, and her brain was spinning. Her face met the floor or whatever it was. It wasn’t the cold metal operating table. She closed her blurry eyes.

Lincoln appeared with a huge smile. How she missed him, and now he was here! She ran to him. He scooped her up in his arms and embraced her. She reciprocated in this blissful moment, which morphed into a passionate kiss. After putting her head on his chest, he stroked the hair on the side of her head. Together at last! She felt great joy and relief with it all.

The moment, however, changed, marred by a sound. At first, it seemed like a whisper, so distant. But she heard it again.

 _Agent Johnson_ , her brain finally registered.

“You hear me? We are going home.”

Yes, Sousa’s voice again, that was it. _Going home_. 

“But you have got to fight,” he said in a demanding tone.

 _Fight_. _Yes, fight!_ Jiaying and Lincoln disappeared. She wasn’t alone here and had to fight for Sousa’s sake and her own. Malick would kill him for not being an inhuman. The man out of time needed a fighting chance against Malick and his two thugs. While it was a struggle, Daisy moved her hands close to Sousa’s. The nerves in her hand felt like fire as she felt the glass pulled from her palm. Wincing, she let out several whimpers. That small effort exhausted her, and she just wanted to sleep.

**********

Sousa closed his right hand loosely around the broken piece of glass with Daisy’s blood, feeling the sharpness against his skin. His jaw clenched, as a fury burned in his soul for what Nathaniel Malick did to Daisy. After the war, he wanted no part of killing, if he could help it. Of course, his job was to round up criminals, but he never wanted to kill anyone, let alone shoot them just to slow them down.

Now, however, he would do whatever it took. He made a promise to Daisy that they were going home, and she had changed the odds of their survival by hiding that shard of glass in her hand. That was something Peggy Carter would have done. 

He audibly sighed and caught himself, knowing he still hadn’t totally gotten over what happened with her. It shook his confidence in himself regarding relationships with women, and he had resigned himself to living the rest of his life alone without a wife or children.

However, he didn’t want to think about that now, and his leg was becoming uncomfortable with Daisy resting on it. Gently lifting her head, he shifted a bit and lowered it back on his leg. Then, he leaned down to her and spoke again into her ear, “We are going home, Agent Johnson. We will get home.” 

_Home_. So much here, wherever they were, reminded him of it. The smell of manure, which hung in the air, the barn, the horses’ whinnies, and the tack on the walls. It all brought back memories of his own childhood home in Twin Falls, Idaho, on his family’s farm. He was never going to see “home” again at least not the way it was in 1955. How did his parents and his siblings take his death? Did his parents even live on the farm anymore? Were they even alive? And what about his siblings and their families? 

He had had no time to mourn the loss of his family and the past. Life was coming at him faster than he could have ever imagined and wanted. It’s why he told Daisy this would be his last stop, just before Nathaniel Malick kidnapped them. But she was right. They had to dive in after these…Chronicoms who were changing history. 

Sousa was an altruistic type, willing to give his life to save others, but his “death” seemed empty. He’d have to make a new life, a new home with Daisy and the other SHIELD agents. And there was no way in hell that he was leaving her when she was in this condition.

Mike Stephens saved him on the battlefield, carrying him back from the line after shrapnel tore Sousa’s leg apart. Stephens stayed with him the next couple of hours, even when Sousa said to leave him. Sousa never thought they were going to make it, so he resigned himself to die. But Stephens was a stubborn cuss. He carried Sousa back into a foxhole. Even the Germans advancing and the freezing cold didn’t faze Stephens. He stayed and kept telling Sousa, “We are going home.”

Hearing a whinny, Sousa realized he was breathing heavier and his heart was racing, thinking about the war. So much death and destruction. The war came alive again for him in this barn as he vividly recalled events, artillery fire, and explosions, blowing apart trees with dangerous debris raining down. The smell of death was in the air. And the freezing cold. Just the thought made a shudder course through his body.

Having fallen unconscious at some point in the fox hole, Sousa woke up on a field stretcher, and Stephens was gone. It was a blow because Sousa wanted to thank him. But the bigger gut-wrenching bombshell came a short time later when Sousa inquired about Stephens’ whereabouts. A nurse told Sousa that Stephens stayed with him until medics came. He went back out fighting and was killed. That devastating news stayed with Sousa. It took a long time to come to some type of terms with his survivor’s guilt. Even then, at times, he couldn’t help but think he was the one who should have died out there.

Sousa felt he owed Stephens’ family a personal description of Mike Stephens’ heroics, so he looked up Stephen’s parents once he got out of the hospital in the states. Traveling by train to Peoria, Illinois, he met Stephen’s parents – Mike, Sr. and Mary – and related the story. They were grateful and asked Sousa to stay for dinner and overnight. He didn’t want to impose, but Mary insisted. He got to see photos of Mike as a baby and growing up, along with a side of Mike Stephens – through his parents’ eyes – that he hadn’t seen before. War changes people, and Mike Stephens, Sousa figured, was no different. But that last act was one of heroics and selflessness.

Clang! Sousa startled a moment then heard voices. The sounds snapped Sousa out of the war and aftermath. He realized someone probably dropped something on that metal operating table, like those barbaric instruments Malick was using. Thankfully, the barn had thin wooden walls. He heard Nathaniel Malick talking to his two goons, Ron and Mark in the make-shift operating room in the next room.

“I need more towels and bandages,” Malick said. “Clean this mess up and get Daniel. Prep him. I’m going to the lab.”

Sousa heard the creaking of the door open and then close three times. He could only hope that two of them wouldn’t come for him at once.

He looked around once more at the tack on the walls. The bridles had become part of Plan B, in case Plan A with the glass didn’t work. He hadn’t ridden horses since…well since before the army. So much now he could no longer do easily. Stealing a horse & putting Daisy on it was out of the question, so he wondered how he was going to get out of here, carrying her.

The best he could figure, they were somewhere in upstate New York. He had to find a phone, and he knew he wouldn’t get far carrying her. Enoch rigged some type of technology on the Zephyr to accept phone calls from this year, in case something went wrong.

Looking down at Daisy again, he reassured her. “Stay with me, Daisy. We are going home.”


	2. Not Everything Is in the History Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sousa and Daisy escape, but Sousa learns something important and something disturbing about some of the agents in the process. The other agents, too, learn something about him.

Sousa had to get Daisy out of here before the entire roof collapsed. He could hear more wood in the roof shifting and cracking. He continued to cough as particles rained down. It was a race against time in more than one way. Daisy was lying on some bales of hay while he removed debris blocking the door to the outside. 

Finally, he threw the last piece of wood that was blocking their escape into the growing pile and opened the door. His tense muscles relaxed a tad when he saw the profile of a white van parked about twenty feet straight ahead. Scanning the surroundings, there was a farmhouse to the right at least three times that distance. As fast as he could, he went back to gently gather up Daisy in his arms. Grunting, he shifted her cradled form, so the majority of her weight was on his left side and her head on his left shoulder. As he limped carefully on the debris, he was ever aware that one wrong placement of his prosthesis could spell disaster for the precious bundle he held. 

Setting his eyes on the rear of a van, he made a beeline for it, hoping the keys were in it. His family always left their vehicles unlocked on the farm with the keys in them. Otherwise, he could hotwire it, just like he and Peggy did more than once. Taking several steps toward it, he heard more of the building collapsing, but he didn’t look back. He made it to van.

“Stop right there.”

Sousa’s muscles tightened, and his heart skipped a beat. _Ron._ The voice came from behind Sousa. Completely vulnerable right now with Daisy in his arms, Sousa wouldn’t do anything to cause harm to her. 

He started to turn but flinched when a shot rang out. Turning around, he spotted Ron on the ground near the farmhouse. May stepped out from behind a tree near Ron, and Sousa let out an audible breath. She had one of those icers, and so did Yo-Yo, who appeared from behind the farmhouse

They ran to him, as he hobbled toward them. 

“What happened?” May said, as her fingers reached for Daisy’s pulse. 

“Nathaniel Malick tried to take her powers. He took blood, spinal fluid, and a couple of glands.”

May’s eyes scanned his face, “You okay?”

“I’ll make it,” Sousa said. “I’m worried about Daisy.”

They made it back to the Quinjet, the incline providing a new challenge. Sousa gritted his teeth with each step of his right leg, but he made it up with Daisy in his arms, flanked by Yo-Yo and May. Sweat ran down his face.

Once he sat down, he adjusted Daisy so she sat in his lap with her head against his shoulder. Yo-Yo strapped him in with a different harness big enough for the both of them. Still breathing heavier than normal and hearing his pulse resounding in his ears, he closed his eyes. His muscle tension relaxed a tiny bit, having made it this far. However, he couldn’t fully relax until he knew Daisy was safe at home.

_Home._ Calling the flying headquarters home was a strange new concept.

Hearing an unfamiliar snap, his eyes popped open. May had a bottle of something clear, unscrewing the top. “Water.” He reached for it with his free hand, brushing May’s hand. The bottle nearly slipped through his fingers. May pulled her hand away as if burned, then groaned. He sat a fraction forward, and his eyes shot to her face, which grew paler and contorted. Focusing on her hand for a moment, he didn’t see a problem.

“You okay?” Sousa asked, puzzled by what was happening.

“She felt your pain.” Yo-Yo’s voice had a confidence that suggested she knew more. His eyes darted to her, but she focused on May.

“My pain? How?” He pivoted his eyes back to May who had her eyes closed, blowing out a long, slow breath.

“We don’t know,” Yo-Yo said. “She touches people and feels their emotions.”

Color was returning to May’s face, and she opened her eyes, focusing on Sousa. “Sorry, my body wasn’t prepared for that.” 

“I got this,” Yo-Yo said to May, who gave a quick nod and took one last look at Daisy before heading toward the cockpit. 

Yo-Yo checked Daisy and Sousa’s harness while Sousa followed May with his eyes, noticing her limp. He stiffened, and a sudden realization came to mind, looking to Yo-Yo for confirmation. “That explains why she was confused after she shook my hand.” 

“Yeah,” Yo-Yo said, buckling herself in.

He took several large swallows of water. Although he could easily drink the rest and at least another bottle or two, he knew he’d be sick. Rationing the rest, he considered May’s ability. He usually tried to hide his pain as best as possible. While he knew he couldn’t do that carrying Daisy, people seeing the pain on his face was different than having someone feel his emotions. 

“You’re bothered by what May felt.” It was a statement rather than a question. 

He sighed, not looking at her or anything in particular. Feeling the vibrations of the engines, he held Daisy a bit tighter, cognizant of her injuries. “Yeah. I try not to burden others with my pain. I don’t want pity.” 

“Neither do I,” Yo-Yo said. It was the determination in her voice that made Sousa look at her face, even though he doubted that she fully knew what it was like. However, she sat tall, and there was a fire behind her eyes. “I’m a double amputee. My arms.” She held them out, turning them over and flexing her fingers. 

Realizing his indiscretion of staring with his mouth open at how real they looked, he felt his face grow warm. He was used to stares, just not coming from himself. Sousa met her eyes again, seeing that sense of understanding and defiance that neither one of them wanted to be treated any different for being “physically challenged,” as Daisy called it. 

They lifted off, and the heavy manure smell began to fade. Sousa chuckled at himself. “I couldn’t tell. I’ve never seen prosthetics that looked that authentic.” 

“Yeah, Simmons can do amazing stuff. I’m sure she can help you with your leg.” 

He only dared to entertain that for a brief moment. Right now, all he cared about was Daisy’s health. Her skin was sweaty, and he feared she was in shock. He sank a bit in the seat and closed his eyes, thinking of Mike Stephens, who kept Sousa alive. Situations like this could negatively affect people long term, so he wanted Daisy to know he was here for her. 

Lost in thought, his brain finally registered that Yo-Yo had asked him a question. _Do you get phantom pains?_

“All the time,” he finally said, and he could feel them now, burning down to his toes. “You?”

“Same.” Yo-Yo seemed to realize his thoughts were elsewhere. “Simmons will take good care of her. Daisy will be okay.” 

Her voice sounded certain, and he saw that in her face. He wanted to believe it. 

“Daisy’s a fighter,” Yo-Yo said, obviously trying to reassure him.

He agreed and told her how Daisy hid that piece of glass under her skin. 

They made it back to the Zephyr and completed docking. Then, Simmons came up the ramp with Enoch in tow. Sousa recounted what happened, as Simmons took Daisy’s pulse, and Yo-Yo unbuckled Daisy and Sousa. 

Simmons pointed at his right hand, “Is that your blood or Daisy’s?”

He looked at his palm and fingers stained red, along with the cuts in his fingers and palm from the glass shard he stabbed Mark with twice. “Mostly Daisy’s.”

“You’ve been through a lot.” Sousa met Simmons’ soft, compassionate eyes, and she continued, “Perhaps it would be better if you let Enoch carry her.”

Sousa thought to object, feeling very protective, but it was better if Enoch took her. However, there was something strange about that man. He never smiled. Regardless, the team trusted Enoch, so Sousa nodded. Enoch could get Daisy to the medical bay much faster. “She needs gentle care,” Sousa said, looking at Enoch. 

“I shall endeavor, Chief Sousa, to handle her with the utmost gentleness.”

Sousa nodded, “I appreciate that, and I’m not a chief here.”

“Duly noted.”

After transferring her, Sousa swept some stray hair from her face. With his eyes locked on Daisy, Enoch, May, and Simmons, he watched as they took off.

“Agent Sousa, lean on me, if you want,” Yo-Yo said. 

Sousa nodded, grateful for the support. “Thank you.” He was stiff getting up. Then, Yo-Yo wrapped her arm around his waist, and he put his arm across her shoulder. He hated to be dependent on people in this way. However, he didn’t feel as bad accepting Yo-Yo’s help, knowing she wasn’t going to pity him. Also, he realized this team didn’t see Yo-Yo’s amputations as a hinderance, unlike what he experienced with many agents in the past. At least he hadn’t noticed any problems here. But right now, he only wanted to get back to the medical bay to be there with Daisy

It was slow going down the ramp, leading with his bad leg. By the time he and Yo-Yo made it to the hallway near the medical bay, Enoch met them.

“How is Daisy?” Sousa asked, searching the man’s face for a clue, but there wasn’t any.

“Time will tell.”

Sousa narrowed his eyes and felt his chest constrict with the lack of hope. He wasn’t sure if it was Enoch’s matter-of-fact tone, the lack of facial expression, or the man’s words that irritated him more. 

Out of the corner of Sousa’s eye, he saw Yo-Yo studying him before she addressed Enoch. “We need to work on your bedside manner.”

“Bedside manner? I do not believe…”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Yo-Yo interrupted, glaring at Enoch. 

“As you wish,” he said before addressing Sousa, “Dr. Simmons requested that I take your vital signs while you wait outside the medical bay. She is settling Agent Johnson in.” 

They came to an area where there was a chair and a table with devices on it, none recognizable. He sat down, leaned back, and stretched out his right leg, resting his hands in his lap.

Yo-Yo asked him if he wanted more water. Just as he said that he did, he felt something on his index finger. Looking down, he saw a white clip connected to a device similar to Daisy’s phone, but larger. “What are you doing?”

“Taking your oxygen level, temperature, blood pressure…”

Sousa raised his eyebrows. “How are you taking my temperature without putting a thermometer in my mouth?”

“Non-contact infrared thermal imaging,” Enoch said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I am taking your blood pressure using doppler radar.”

_Radar?_ Sousa never would have imagined it would be used this way.

“You, Agent Sousa, are most likely experiencing a headache and are dehydrated. Also, your right leg is inflamed.”

Sousa’s eyes widened, knowing it was true. The technology was interesting, but he felt an intrusion, similar to what he felt with May reading his emotions. 

“When was the last time you had something to eat or drink?”

Sousa mentioned the water on the plane. “What day is it? I think we lost a day.” Enoch confirmed it. “We haven’t eaten since before we were kidnapped.”

Yo-Yo came back with a large glass of water, which Sousa drank within a couple of minutes. She refilled the glass, which he also drank.

It wasn’t long that Simmons came out, and Sousa sat forward. “How is she? Will she be okay?”

Simmons’ worry lines spoke volumes, but her voice was gentle, “She’s sleeping. We have her in a healing chamber, and we’re working to stabilize her condition.”

“Can I see her?”

“Yes, in a few moments,” Simmons said. Enoch handed her that phone-like device, and she seemed to study it. Finally, she spoke, meeting his eyes, “Then, I want to run some tests on you, just to check you over.”

He, leaning on Yo-Yo, followed Simmons into the medical bay with Enoch behind him. He saw Daisy in the healing chamber, which reminded him of a big tube. Dressed in black, she had fresh bandages on her arms and neck. Her eyes were closed.

He put a hand on the tube. It was the closest he could get to touching her hand, letting her know he was here with her. “How long will she have to stay in here?” he asked, keeping his eyes on Daisy.

“Maybe a week,” Simmons said. “We’ll see. Knowing Daisy, she will not want to stay in there.”

Sousa gave a half-smile. “I can relate.” Having spent all those months in hospitals, first in Europe then after he shipped home, he hated hospitals. “I’ll see to it that she follows your orders.”

“That should prove interesting,” Simmons said, sounding skeptical.

After Simmons and Enoch ran scans on Sousa, they got him a chair to sit near Daisy and some food. Simmons asked him if he wanted to change his clothes, but he didn’t want to leave Daisy’s side.

**********

May came in to check on Daisy before retiring to her cabin. The light source in the back of the room was bright enough to make out important details on this side of the room. Daisy looked the same. May found it interesting, albeit not surprising, that Daniel was sitting there against the pillar with his eyes closed. He still wore the same dirty, blood-stained clothes. 

May walked up to the healing chamber, eyes focused once again on Daisy’s rhythmic rise and fall of her chest to reassure herself Daisy was really alive. Once satisfied, May spotted Simmons in the back and headed there. It was another late evening for Simmons, albeit instead of the time drive, Simmons was spending her time on two patients. On the big monitor, there was a scanned image of Sousa’s skeletal system with his amputated leg.

May spoke in a quiet voice, “Simmons, how is Daisy?”

Dark circles were starting to form under Simmons’ eyes. “Better. Her vitals are stabilizing. However,” Simmons eyes grew concerned, and May figured she knew the problem. Simmons pressed a button to show another image, obviously of Daisy’s body. “The glands,” she pointed to the image in two spots, “here and here that Malick removed are obviously involved with Daisy’s powers. Without those glands, Daisy is most likely powerless.”

May had been afraid of that when Sousa explained what Malick did. “Will they regenerate?”

“That, I don’t know. So far, I haven’t seen any indication, but her body has a lot of healing to do.”

May nodded. “What about Malick? Do you think he could maintain Daisy’s powers?”

“Well,” Simmons said, “Daniel Whitehall was able to steal Jaiying’s powers, so I’m afraid the answer is…”

“Yes,” May finished, clenching her jaw and feeling a hatred and fury toward the Malicks. “And Sousa?”

“He had some of the same issues I mentioned to you earlier about Daisy. Dehydration, cuts, bruises, trace amounts of heavy sedatives. He’s also suffering from exhaustion, but he’s determined to sit there. He wants to be here when she wakes up, which I told him could take hours. He’ll cause more inflammation and damage to himself by leaving on his prosthetic.”

May nodded, “He was in a lot of pain when I touched him.” She felt more than Sousa’s pain when she touched him, including his emotions regarding Daisy. 

“Yes, and I found out why, at least part of it.” May cocked her head, as Simmons hit another button. The screen’s image changed back to Sousa’s body, but this time it looked like his nervous system. “Besides his cuts and bruises and his prosthetic causing sores, he has several neuromas, painful lumps of scar tissue that form at the end of amputated nerves.” Simmons pointed them out near where the amputation was. “He’s been living with constant pain. Of course, some days are worse than others.” May gave her a knowing look. “No prosthesis will feel comfortable unless the growths are surgically removed. It’s amazing he walked all that way carrying Daisy.”

May agreed. Since SHIELD academy days, she always had respect for the Sousa that was in the history books, but not everything about him was in those books. She had even more respect for the man. 

Simmons continued, “He told me that he doesn’t like to take pain killers, but he was in so much pain he took one. No doubt carrying Daisy aggravated his condition.”

“Whiskey would have been my choice,” May said.

Simmons looked at her with empathy. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.” 

Simmons gave her a gentle but skeptical look. “Just like I’m fine?”

Simmons knew her too well, but May wasn’t about to talk about her new empathic ability, LMD Coulson’s “death,” Mack and Zeke’s absence, or anything else. Experiencing others’ emotions felt like the 8th Circle of Hell. She was just grateful she couldn’t feel people’s emotions at a distance. That would be the 9th Circle of Hell. “Let me know if Daisy’s condition changes,” she said before heading back to her cabin. Alone. Just her and a bottle of whiskey.


	3. Beginning to Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Sousa finally talk after their escape from the barn.
> 
> “Their locked hands offered a stark reminder of how many scars lingered … shards of war and distressing anguish forever branded them. Yet in this endearing moment of comfort, their adversity became skinspeak between survivors phoenixing from the ashes of their perilous journey—their burning eagerness for survival overcoming the forces that once tried to stifle their light.”  
> ― Becca Vry, Musings: An Argyle Empire Anthology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't started this fic, I suggest starting on this chapter, which comes after Daisy and Sousa's escape in the episode. Then, go back to read the first 2 chapters. Why? Because it's been years since I've written fiction. It's taken me several chapters to get back into writing. (My apologies.) All the while, Daisy and Sousa are chatting away in my head. The first 2 chapters are important. However, at some point, I may rewrite them to be more showing than telling, as well as to streamline them.

_Oh, God, no!_

“Daisy!” a voice yelled. 

She woke with a start, heart racing. As she tried to sit up on the barn floor but couldn’t, she felt throbbing pain just about everywhere in her body. 

“Daisy, you’re safe.”

Daisy’s mind started cutting through the fog. “Simmons?” Blinking a few times, she realized she was on the Zephyr. “Sousa’s dead.”

“No, Daisy, Sousa is safe.” Simmons’ hand pushed gently on Daisy’s shoulder. “Lie back down.”

“Safe?” Daisy wasn’t sure she heard it correctly.

“Yes, he’s here on the Zephyr. You were having a dream.”

It took a couple of moments for Daisy to process. She sighed in relief, laying her head back down. Her heartrate started to decrease from the pounding she had felt. While she rubbed her left side, where the pain was the most acute, her words came out slowly, weak, and hoarse, “More like a nightmare.” 

Simmons’ voice was gentle but there was concern there. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than before.” It was a low bar. Just about anything felt better than how she felt in that barn. Even though Daisy’s mind was still slow, her concern wasn’t for herself right now. Her voice held an urgency. “Sousa…How…?” 

Simmons interrupted, “I treated him for minor injuries. He’ll be fine.”

Daisy closed her eyes in gratitude. That nightmare and Malick’s threat against Sousa still rang loud and clear in her head.

“He sat here with you for hours.”

Shocked, Daisy’s eyes flew open, and she looked at Simmons. There was admiration in her eyes. “He wanted to be here when you woke up.”

Daisy couldn’t help feeling the bittersweetness. Her heart sank a bit with his absence, and she couldn’t help but echo that in her voice, “I guess he gave up on that idea.” A gentle hand cupped her shoulder.

“He was here when you woke up last night.”

 _Last night?_ Daisy’s memory was so fuzzy after Malick tortured her. She strained to think of it.

“You may not remember because you were quite groggy from the painkillers.”

“I don’t.” But she wished she did. She figured Sousa was going to leave the team like he said he was. While he was still here, that didn’t mean he was staying. Regardless, her heart felt lighter knowing he was on the plane. 

Simmons continued, “He went back to his cabin to take off his prosthesis and get more sleep.”

Daisy couldn’t fault him for that even if she was a bit disappointed with his absence. Having learned a few things about necessary prosthetic and stump care from Coulson and Yo-Yo, she knew prosthetics shouldn’t be left on too long. Otherwise, that could lead to serious complications. She imagined it was worse for Sousa since he had an old-timey, weight-bearing prosthetic. 

Laying in this healing chamber was getting old really fast. Daisy adjusted her body and moaned. She panted out, “How did I get here?”

“What do you remember?”

Daisy tried to think, but her brain was like Swiss cheese. “I was pretty drugged up.” An image of bridles and hay came to mind, but it was the smell that she remembered most vividly. “I think I woke up on the floor of a barn; it smelled like a barnyard. Sousa was there. I couldn’t move much or quake.” She paused, considering her newfound respect for what her mother went through. “Malick wanted to take my powers and Sousa’s too.”

Simmons eyebrows flew up, the shock clear in her voice. “Sousa?”

“Because he hadn’t aged much since the war.”

“So,” Simmons concluded, “Malick thought Sousa was inhuman.”

“Yeah. Malick would’ve killed him.” It was that thought that stood out in her mind. She had to try to save him. It was the thought of Sousa’s death that left her no choice. Her own death, well…that was a different story. “I remember shoving the glass in my hand,” she said. It was the pain mostly that she remembered. Her bandaged hand ached, but it was worth it.

Thinking about this triggered the vivid imagery from her nightmare. Malick had carved up Sousa just like she imagined her mom was by Whitehall. That was all too real, and she didn’t want to think about that again. Daisy remembered something else from her time in the barn with Sousa, but she wasn’t ready to share it with anyone but him. “That’s about all I remember.”

Before I tell you how Sousa saved you, let me get your vitals and give you some fluid. While I run a few tests, I’ll tell you the story. Then, you can eat, if you’re up to it.” 

Daisy thought she noticed a devilish gleam in Simmons’ eye before the agent turned to reach for something. “Simmons,” Daisy said, grimacing when she adjusted her body to be a little more comfortable, “you’re up to something.”

“Me?” Simmons said innocently. “I assure you that you’re mistaken.” Daisy wasn’t so sure. She thought of what a terrible liar Simmons was when they first met each other. But Simmons had come a long way.

For about the next twenty minutes, Simmons checked her over, running tests while filling in the story. Hearing about Malick gave Daisy new concerns about that psychopath. What did this mean for her own powers? Simmons helped Daisy sit up enough to drink some water while they talked about that.

But then Daisy saw new concern in Simmons’ eyes. “What haven’t you told me?”

Simmons sighed, and the concern morphed into sadness. “Besides Mack and Deke getting left behind when we unexpectedly jumped, Coulson blew himself up to destroy the Chromicon ship.”

Daisy blinked and spent a few moments considering that. While she felt regret about Mack and Deke, it was Coulson she focused on. Her voice was hopeful, “You can rebuild Coulson, though.”

“Yes, but we need his hard drive. I don’t know if it survived the explosion. And I’m afraid the computer that held Coulson’s programming was damaged by a missile strike. I’m so sorry.”

Daisy swallowed, trying to process her profound sadness. Coulson – more correctly his essence – might really be gone for good. 

Simmons put her hand on top of Daisy’s. “We’ll do everything we can to get him back.” Simmons squeezed gently before letting go.

Daisy was grateful. “I know.” She turned away, wanting a few moments of privacy, wishing she could have said goodbye. Simmons made herself scarce. Daisy knew how Sousa felt, at least in a small way. 

It pierced her heart to think that she couldn’t say goodbye to the LMD version, who seemed close enough to the real Coulson,

However, it was the real version she thought about. She wasn’t there when he died. But at least she had that letter, which she considered now. He said how proud he was of her and how much he loved her. She took it out every so often and read it, especially when times were tough. It helped her get through those times.

But she knew her situation was so much better than Sousa’s. He had nothing, except the clothes on his back and cane. On top of that, he was taken out of time. Everything was taken from him. So she couldn’t help but feel for him. 

There was a part of her that wanted to get close to him. However, she couldn’t help but feel trepidation. He was from the past. She thought of how it ironically gave new meaning to “generation gap.” She had to chuckle inwardly with that thought. 

However, the sobering thought was that she didn’t have the greatest track record with boyfriends. It suddenly dawned on her. _Why are you even going there?_ She didn’t really know him, and yet she felt she knew a lot about him.

Truth be told, when she learned about Sousa being at Area 51, she felt behind in knowledge from the other SHIELD agents who had gone to the SHIELD academy. They knew from their history classes that Sousa was a hero. Therefore, to catch up, she read up on him. She couldn’t help but feel honored to know him. 

Besides his SHIELD heroism, he was a World War II hero. Among other things, he received the Distinguished Service Cross for destroying some key entrenched German machine guns and stealing Nazi plans. The men he commanded who were with him on that mission all received either Bronze Stars or Silver Stars. Sousa and his men saved countless Allied lives.

Daisy thought of a few other details she read about him before smelling coffee. Turning her head to see who... Daisy’s lips upturned, feeling her heart soar. It was Sousa with a tray of food.

He smiled, and his eyes were bright, as he limped toward her. “Good morning, Agent Johnson. How are you feeling?”

“A lot better.” However, when she shifted to better see him, she groaned a bit. His brow furrowed, and he looked doubtful. She corrected herself, “I’m feeling like I got run over a few times. But that’s a lot better than I was.”

“I don’t doubt it. And you don’t have to sugarcoat it for me. Pain and I are old friends.” His face turned quizzical. “Is that still a word you use ‘sugarcoat’?” 

Daisy’s lips upturned at the corners. “Yeah.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not sure what’s relevant or not any more. Sometimes I have no idea what you and the team are talking about.” Daisy gave him a sympathetic look. “Anyway, Simmons said you could have some eggs and tea if you felt like it.” She watched as he limped with the tray, which had two plates of scrambled eggs and two cups on it. “You’re looking a little better today than last night.”

It dawned on her. “I think you and Simmons were conspiring.”

“Oh?” He put the tray down nearby and turned back to her with playful eyes. “In what way?” he asked, moving to the side of the healing chamber. 

“You bringing the food.”

The playfulness in his eyes deepened. “I cooked it, too.”

She smiled at that and was touched. However, she wanted him to understand something, and her voice grew serious. “You saved my life.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t do it alone. It was a team effort. And I’m not sure that you and I would have made it out without that piece of glass you hid in your hand. That was…”

“No, it’s more than that.” She stared into his eyes, wanting him to understand in a profound way. All the aches and throbbing she felt right now were nothing relatively speaking to what she experienced. “I was ready to give up.” Best to die than be used by Malick. “I remember hearing your voice. You told me to fight and that we were going home. If it weren’t for you, I would have let myself die.” 

Her fingers reached over and covered his hand that rested next to her. He looked down and turned his palm up, locking hands. When he looked up and met her eyes, she saw a profound understanding and empathy in his eyes for what they shared. “I know what that feels like.”

She gave a subtle nod, knowing he really did understand. She imagined that it had something to do with losing his leg and the war. A favorite quote by Becca Vry came to mind from _Musings: An Argyle Empire Anthology_ , which Daisy read a few years ago. She didn’t voice it now, not here in this public area. It felt too personal.

_Their locked hands offered a stark reminder of how many scars lingered … shards of war and distressing anguish forever branded them. Yet in this endearing moment of comfort, their adversity became skinspeak between survivors phoenixing from the ashes of their perilous journey—their burning eagerness for survival overcoming the forces that once tried to stifle their light._

The only person she had shared it with was Coulson since their relationship reflected this quote in a profound way.

She gave voice to a concern, though. “I thought you were going to leave the team. You could have possibly escaped, leaving me there.”

He smiled. “I don’t leave men or women,” emphasizing the latter, “behind.”

She was grateful, but wondered something. “Are you still planning on leaving? You said…”

“My place is here. We’re all in the same boat. Besides,” he added, “you were right.” She gave him a puzzled look. “We have to dive in.”

He was right, but she found it a little disappointing. She wanted to know more about his motives but was afraid of the answer. He would be the type to treat anyone this way. She couldn’t help but feel comforted, though. Either way, he was a good man. 

What was the saying? _Warm hand, warm heart?_ She thought that was it. His hand was like an island of warmth right now, which was comforting not just emotionally but physically. Simmons kept the room a bit cool.

Yo-Yo’s voice broke the endearing moment. “How are y…?” Daisy and Sousa released their locked hands, and Sousa turned to face Yo-Yo as she continued, “It looks like I’m disturbing something. Sorry, I’ll come back.” For a second, Daisy couldn’t keep the disappointment off her face and wondered if Yo-Yo noticed.

 _Oh, well!_ Daisy sighed inwardly at the broken moment with Sousa. He became all “business” and asked if she was ready to eat before the food got cold. Since she was, he helped her sit up and put a pillow behind her. 

The sorest part of her body, she realized, were her sides. She couldn’t help but moan a bit when sitting up. But she appreciated his gentleness. He held the tray, while she took a bite.

“These eggs are really good.” She noticed mushrooms in them. “Where did you learn to cook?” She thought to say, _I suck at it_ , but didn’t know if he would understand that. Instead, she said, “It’s not really my thing.”

“It comes with being a bachelor. It was either learn to cook or starve. I couldn’t afford to eat out all the time.”

As she considered that, she noticed his bandages. His right palm was bandaged, and he had band-aids on two fingers. 

“I guess we match.” She held up her left hand wrapped in gauze bandages. 

His lips upturned. “We do.”

She took another bite of eggs and noticed something else. He had on a blue button-down shirt and black pleated pants. She might not feel well, but she still had eyes. “You look hot.” 

He got a puzzled look and shook his head. “I’m not hot. It’s a bit cool in here.”

She chuckled and then grimaced as her sides ached. “Okay, that hurt. Sorry, I meant you fill out your clothes really well.”

His cheeks turned red. She found that endearing but realized she needed to keep in mind he was from the past and probably not used to forward women. _Note to self: maybe not the right thing to say._

His eyes took on a humorous look. “Since I only had my ‘grandpa clothes’ on my back…”

She chuckled again and winced. “Okay, don’t make me laugh,” she said with a pained smile.

“Sorry,” he said. She noticed his regretful, concerned look.

The acute part of the pain passed and her smile morphed into a less pained one. “I’m the one who kept badgering you. Besides, all you had were your clothes and your cane.” She had blurted it out and realized her mistake when he lowered his eyes. “I guess your cane is gone?” 

When he met her eyes, there was a fleeting sadness there or so she thought. “It is.”

“I’m sorry.” She felt bad for the loss of it and her mistake. “Was it a family heirloom? It looked somewhat expensive.”

“A gift, but it was part of a chapter of my life that is now closed.” He must have realized her sadness because he tried to reassure her. “It’s all right. I believe it’s for the best. It was a symbol of my past.” He smiled. “Please don’t worry about it.”

She wasn’t sure what it had meant to him beyond “a gift,” but she felt better and nodded. His smile reassured her. They talked a bit more as she ate and drank some tea until she felt full. Sousa put the tray down and helped her lie down again. 

Once the acute, sharp pain in her side passed, she asked, “Was I dreaming or did you mention a field hospital story?” 

His smile warmed her heart, and he said, “It wasn’t a dream.” He grabbed the tray with his food. Since Daisy wanted to hear it this time to remember it, he sat down and told the story again while he ate.


	4. The Cheshire Cat, Spies, the Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In episode 7.09 "As I Have Always Been," Sousa said he was happier asleep. What was he dreaming about?

He didn’t like this. It was too soon for Daisy to be out of the healing chamber, but they had no choice. After Mack and Zeke returned to the Zephyr with Coulson’s hard drive, the plane jumped to November 1983. Scanning for anomalies, the team discovered a strange Chronicom energy source at Gideon Malick’s mansion.

Malick was holding a black-tie affair, so the entire team got involved, except Simmons, who stayed behind on the Zephyr. Daisy and Sousa, along with May and Coulson were going undercover as guests. Daisy needed to get to the security control panel, so she could take over the security cameras in the basement, putting them on a loop. Also, she had to unlock the security door to the room where the energy source was. Then, May and Coulson could get to the source and neutralize it. As for Mack and Yo-Yo, they were providing backup, but they would also help the team escape by neutralizing the guards outside. If worse came to worse, they were key to a backup plan.

Driving up the circular driveway on the south side of the mansion in a Mercedes limo, Sousa and Daisy waited in line with the other ritzy cars to unload their rich passengers. When it was their turn, Zeke, in his chauffeur’s uniform, pulled up to the unloading zone, got out, and opened the rear passenger door for Sousa.

“Good luck,” Zeke said, once Sousa got out.

“Thanks,” Sousa replied, buttoning his black tux jacket before holding out a hand to Daisy. She took it, and he felt the palm-sized bandage. At least she had healed externally enough in the other places, so she didn’t need bandages. However, she still didn’t have her powers and was supposed to only hack the security system, staying back out of trouble. 

Sousa concerns melted away for the moment. He couldn’t help but watch her high-heeled foot, bare leg, and then the rest of her emerge from the car. Dressed in a stunning, dark blue evening gown with a slit in the skirt, a revealing neckline, and dangling earrings, she looked lovely. “I bet you don’t get much of a chance to get all dolled up, flying on that plane all the time.”

She flashed him a pained look on her face, albeit her eyes held a bit of amusement. “Um…we’ll work on that.” Her code for “grandpa language” that she didn’t have time to explain.

Taking it all in stride, he gave her an amused smile. It had become a thing between them, which he enjoyed. So much had changed from the 1950s that he needed her patient instruction. 

Her eyes scanned his body. With a smile and a nod, she said, “You’re rockin’ that tux.” 

That term was a new one to him, but he figured he knew what she meant. “I take it you approve, Mrs. Wren?” he said with playfulness, referring to the forged ids Daisy made. He was Christopher Wren, and she was his wife Teresa. 

“You could say that, Mr. Wren,” she said, returning the playfulness.

Daisy took the arm Sousa held out, and they both once again turned back on the hidden communication units in their ears. That, too, was something new to him. 

“Here we go,” Daisy said, to the rest of the team, as they started walking toward the mansion doors. May and Coulson were already at the party, scoping it out after being driven here by Enoch.

Mack responded, _“Be careful.”_

“Copy that,” Daisy said.

Sousa, extremely grateful for the new prosthetic Simmons made, walked normally. While he still felt discomfort from the neuromas, it was nothing like the pain he felt before. However, his gratitude went well beyond that. Not only did he feel more like himself prior to the war, but also – as far as this mission was concerned – having a limp would have brought unwanted attention to himself, putting them all at greater risk of their covers being blown.

Even so, the Malicks could still blow their cover. May and Yo-Yo last saw Nathaniel Malick at Afterlife. He hadn’t been seen at the estate in weeks, but anything was possible. The team had to keep keen eyes out for the brothers.

Listening while May gave them a brief update, Sousa surveilled the surroundings with his eyes, knowing Daisy was doing the same. They were taking in the outside aspects of the large estate, noting potential security guards and guests. 

Having taken a larger role in this mission, Sousa helped plan some of it. That gave him a satisfying feeling, knowing he was part of the team. Being a scout in the war, he was used to parachuting into enemy territory, having studied the intel and memorized maps and landmarks. He felt as prepared as possible doing the same with this estate.

However, Daisy was a wild card. 

That was a major concern, especially in her weakened condition. He knew her type all too well. Peggy’s impulsiveness to plow head-on into a problem without him had been a source of contention at times between them. Sousa couldn’t help but consider once again, as they neared the front doors, that Daisy might do the same here.

Once Daisy and Sousa handed their forged party invitations to the person at the double doors, they walked straight into a small foyer with hallways off to either side. Continuing on, the couple entered a magnificent ballroom-sized hall, which photos couldn’t do justice to. 

It was open to the ceiling and more than two-stories tall with a staircase straight ahead, leading to the sunken floor. Magnificent staircases on his right and left led up to the balconies along the east and west walls. In decades long past, this platform they stood on was the place where guests were announced. 

“We’re on the landing,” Daisy said to the team.

 _“Copy that,”_ Coulson said _. “We’re two-thirds of the way back on the northside, your twelve o’clock.”_

Sousa had rarely been in such an opulent estate, one paid for through ill-gotten gains from the bootlegging and other illegal activities of Gideon Malick’s grandfather. Quickly scanning the crowd, Sousa estimated roughly seventy people on the floor. “I see you,” he said to Coulson. May, dressed in a long, gold evening gown with a breakaway skirt, was easier to spot. Coulson was less conspicuous in a black tux. 

The couple, like so many others, were dancing to the slow music while others stood along the perimeters of the room talking and drinking. Sousa’s eyes followed the tall columns upward to the balconies that extended the length of the room. Taking a quick survey, he could see about twenty-five people up there.

As he surveilled the crowd from this unique vantage point, he tried to pick out security guards. Everyone was dressed in formal attire just like outside, making the effort more tedious, but Coulson and May had been gathering that intel. 

May filled them in. _“So far, three guards on the balcony, your ten o’clock – tall, brown hair, 220 pounds, dark suit – and three o’clock – medium, blond, 180 pounds, black tux. Another is walking the balcony, tall, blond, 245 pounds, dark suit.”_

Sousa surreptitiously glanced in the directions May indicated before looking back to Daisy and giving her a quick nod. 

“Copy that.” Daisy said to the team.

Not wanting to spend too long observing in this spot, he and Daisy descended the stairs to the sunken floor. Sousa then turned to her with his lips upturned and a gleam in his eye. “May I have this dance?” He extended out his left palm while looking into her eyes.

She nodded with a twinkle in hers. “Of course, Mr. Wren.” 

Putting her hand in his, he held her hand slightly lifted and walked her out to an area of the dance floor where they could observe from a good vantage point on the southside. No doubt, she was enjoying the role play, as was he. It felt, in many ways, like old times at the SSR, but he couldn’t fully enjoy it now because of his concerns about Daisy. 

Turning to her, Sousa put his arm around her waist, maintaining a respectable separation. She put her hand on his shoulder, and they began to move to the music. 

“When was the last time you danced?” Daisy said.

“It’s been awhile,” he replied, keeping a surreptitious eye out for guards and the Malicks, just as he knew Daisy was doing. He hadn’t had much time for personal relationships in 1955, spending a lot of late nights trying to track down leads on what he thought was a Hydra infiltration into SHIELD. Not knowing whom to trust, except Peggy and a few others, he had been on his own. Turned out, he trusted a few he shouldn’t have. “You?”

“Sometimes we have dance parties on the plane, but, otherwise, it’s been awhile since I’ve been out.”

The pair danced to a couple of songs, and by the end of the next, they had compared notes on their intel with the team. 

_“Let’s do it,”_ Mack said.

 _“Copy that,”_ came the chorus of voices.

“Sweetheart,” Sousa said to Daisy, “Why don’t we take a walk?”

“Sounds like a good idea, honey.” He gave her his arm, which she took, and they headed toward the hallway with the control panel while Coulson and May headed to the area leading to the basement. As Daisy and Sousa passed through the dance floor and were near the hallway, Sousa narrowed his eyes. “Gideon’s here,” he said, alerting the others. “He’s headed toward us.”

Daisy pulled Sousa into a kiss. Not everything about Daisy’s impulsiveness was troublesome, and he couldn’t help but admire her quick thinking. After Malick passed by, she broke the kiss and met his eyes, maybe to get his reaction. He wasn’t sure. Regardless, her eyes held amusement, and he couldn’t help feel amusement, too. “Okay, problem averted. We’re back on track,” Daisy said to the team, as the couple began walking.

They turned left into the ornate hallway with portraits, mingling guests, and a potential guard at the end of the hallway.

A woman stumbled into Sousa, nearly spilling her drink on him. He reached for her arms to keep her from falling. “Sorry,” she slurred, seeming to study his face. “You know who you remind me of?” Sousa’s muscles tensed. Was she someone from SHIELD? “George Cooper,” she said. “Do you know George?”

He didn’t know whom she meant and released the breath he held. By the time Sousa extricated himself and looked for Daisy, she was down the hallway. Shaking his head and sighing, he hurried toward her and felt more tension in his neck. 

_“Ma’am, you can’t go past here,”_ the guard said in Sousa’s earpiece.

Daisy slurred, _“Hey, this is a really, ya know, great party. I guess the…umm…bathroom isn’t down…?”_ Daisy hit the guy with an uppercut and knocked him out. 

Sousa tightened his jaw for a moment before quickening his pace, albeit not wanting to draw more attention to this situation. Thinking of that three-dimensional map of the house, he knew there was a nearby walk-in closet down the hall. After dragging the guy into the closet, he heard people coming. Grabbing Daisy’s hand and feeling a slickness, he pulled her inside the walk-in with him. There was little floor space with the unconscious man, so he was all too aware of Daisy’s body touching him, no matter how inadvertent it was. And he couldn’t help but take in her flowery scent, concentrated in this small room.

Sousa started taking off his jacket, and Daisy turned her phone’s light on. “Cut the light,” Sousa whispered, hearing two men just outside the closet. Daisy turned it off. Once he excused himself to maneuver around her, unable to prevent brushing against her, he stuffed his jacket in the crack between the door and floor. Having Daisy turn the light back on, he saw there was more room in the small closet. Sousa dragged the guard against the rear wall, sitting him up in the corner.

The men were still talking in the hallway.

Sousa knelt down with Daisy while keeping his voice low, “Why didn’t you let me take care of that guy?” Sousa searched his tux jacket for his lapel pocket. 

“I took care of it,” she whispered back.

Still searching for the pocket without letting light escape under the door, he said, “That wasn’t part of the plan. You didn’t need to.” 

“I figured I could take him out.”

He removed the handkerchief from his lapel pocket and shook it out, as he said, “That’s fine as long as you’re not injured, but right now you shouldn’t be taking chances.” He let out a forceful sigh. “Look at your hand.” The bandage was soaked red, which made her raise her eyebrows. “Let me wrap it.” Sousa gently tended to her hand, as he continued, “Even though you don’t care, I do.”

Zeke spoke in the ear piece, _“Hey, you two sound like a married couple.”_

Sousa tightened his jaw and turned off his comm unit. Daisy did the same. Zeke was the one person on the team who frequently could be quite annoying at times. 

“Why do you care?” 

He thought he saw a touch of hope in her eyes. Thinking of his past mistakes, he didn’t want to repeat them and mulled over what to say since the men outside hadn’t moved.

“Be honest,” she added.

“Honest?”

She nodded.

He sighed audibly, fearing she may not reciprocate his feelings, but plowed ahead, keeping the conversation in a whisper. “I know people like you. Some of my favorite people are people like you.” 

“People like me?” she said with a puzzled look.

He inhaled deeply. His attraction to strong women usually came with a heartbreaking price. It was a pattern with him, and he hoped to stop it. “Focused on the greater good, even at your own expense. You want people to think you _like_ being alone, even though you always end up back with friends. You hate losing.”

“Everyone hates losing.”

“Yeah, but you’ll keep running at the problem full-tilt until you either solve it or slam headlong into a brick wall.”

“Some of those walls are literal.”

“I know.” He’d seen that way too many times in his own life and heard several of her own stories. It was heart-wrenching for him, but even worse was the helpless feeling of watching the results from a painful distance. Peggy had a hard time letting him in her life in the way he needed to be for their relationship to work, but there were other complications. 

“But how does that…?”

“Because when people like you run into those walls,” he paused before implying the rest, “you should have someone there to pick you back up.”

“And you…you like to…be that someone?”

“Not for everyone.” He could see – or was it wishful thinking? – a sense of hopefulness in her eyes. “It helps if they’re fun to be around and if they say what they mean and if they have that superpower where they can rock things around, which is very impressive.”

Her lips upturned. “That’s, um…that is awfully specific.”

“Mm-hmm.” He looked down for a moment and heard the men in the hallway. Unholstering his ICER, he handed it to her. It was a last resort because of the noise, and he hoped she abided by that. “I’m going out.” Before they stood up, he grabbed his jacket and put it on. But as he moved to open the door, she grabbed his arm. 

He turned back. Eyes widening, he realized her intent. She pressed her lips to his, putting her hands on his chest. He felt the phone tucked under one of them. Did she feel his heart beat faster? All the while, he had to keep the mission in mind, but this small room was getting warm. When she pulled back a few seconds later, he saw her dilated pupils. He tried to focus back on the mission.

And lost.

Before he could say anything, she put her hand around his neck and pulled him into a more passionate kiss. He threw caution to the wind and slipped his arms around her waist, pressing his lips into hers and pulling her to him. That warmth turned hot, as an electric pulse shot throughout his body. Hearing heavy breathing, he was unsure whether it was just his. But as much as he wanted to stay here, they had a mission to complete. He broke the kiss and looked at her.

“That was nice,” she said with an approving smile. 

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “It was.” He wondered if that electric feeling had something to do with her vibrational energy, having never felt this particular way before. “Dinner when we get out of this, Mrs. Wren?” 

Her eyes sparkled. “I’d like that, Mr. Wren.”

No time to reflect further, he turned back to the door and turned on his comm unit. “We’re almost to the control room,” he said, informing the team and receiving a report from the others. 

Then, the last person Sousa wanted to hear from spoke, _“I wondered if you two got a room.”_

“Zeke, shut it,” Daisy replied.

Sousa couldn’t help but smile at that. Opening the door, he rushed the men in the hallway. Tackling one in the back, he knocked the other off balance. The tackled man slammed into the wall and slid to the floor. The other man connected a couple of punches to Sousa’s face and ribs. Sousa blocked the next one and returned several, knocking the guy out. He leaned against the wall, catching his breath.

After dragging the men into the closet, Sousa retrieved his ICER from Daisy. Then, they ran down to the control panel room, shutting the door behind them. 

Sousa holstered the ICER, and Daisy began hacking into the system, her hands flying over the keys. “Just a couple of minutes,” she said. 

_“We’re in position,”_ Coulson replied, and Mack concurred with his and Yo-Yo’s position.

Nearly two minutes passed when she said, “Almost got it.” Daisy hit a few more keys. “We’re in. Door’s unlocked.” 

Sousa watched from over her shoulder as the security camera images appeared on screen. His eyes widened, as he saw the image Coulson had described.

“Guys,” Daisy said, “It’s Sybil. She’s the energy reading.” 

“Plan B,” Sousa said with urgency. 

As Daisy grabbed her equipment, turning on the phone’s light, the power to the house went out to prevent Sybil’s escape via the electric grid.

 _“Yo-Yo is getting everything in position,”_ Mack said.

 _“On our way,”_ Coulson replied.

Sousa could hear guests screaming. He and Daisy, with the help of her phone’s light, snuck back down the hallway toward the front doors as fog filled the building. Yo-Yo had zoomed around it, planting dry ice bombs. People were fleeing.

Meanwhile, Sousa could hear Coulson and May’s progress, including a few tussles. Once the pair entered the room with the energy source, they destroyed the computer that contained Sybil, unsure whether she escaped.

Daisy and Sousa made their way back outside into the daylight and met up with the cargo van that had contained all the dry ice bombs. Deke was already seated in the front with Enoch in the driver’s seat. Sousa helped Daisy into the van and stepped inside. Sitting on the fold-down seats attached to the sides of the van, they buckled in, waiting several minutes for Coulson, May, Mack, and Yo-Yo. 

The four arrived at the same time. The men helped the women in and climbed up, taking seats. Yo-Yo and Mack sat opposite Sousa, while Coulson sat next to him with May next to Mack.

Sousa felt Daisy’s fingers cover his hand that rested on his leg. He turned his palm up and gently grasped her hand, reveling in the meaning. 

Coulson closed the van door. “Let’s go,” he said.

The van sped off toward the Zephyr, and Sousa became acutely aware that all eyes were on him and Daisy. The other agents looked like Cheshire cats, except for May. However, she did have a small, rare smile.

“What?” Daisy asked, looking around at the other agents. 

Sousa couldn’t help but feel like an open book, surmising figuratively speaking that the Cheshire cats spied the kiss. No matter, he looked forward to his dinner with Daisy.


End file.
